Almost Progress

Finally, I can report a little bit of progress has been made on our house, although in hindsight not as much as I'd hoped. After weeks of ringing around, waiting for calls and researching other options, we finally found a roofer available to repair some of the leaks in our roof. One of these, at the front, needed urgent attention as water was dripping down from above Moth's bedroom window and also from the ceiling in the porch directly below, and at quite a frequency. Besides this area of the roof, the roofing team also replaced the flashing on the flat roof above our kitchen, which has leaked for as long as we've lived here. 

Because the company was local to us they were able to deal with the work quickly, despite being inundated with work like all of the other roofers we'd contacted. It was finished within a few days, and it was just a matter of waiting for the rain to be sure that the work was definitely complete. And, happily, we have been able to remove the buckets from our kitchen floor. But regretfully, we found that a few days later, the more major leak at the front was still very much a problem. We are just waiting on the roofing team to return and sort it, although they have already agreed to return and give us an estimate for re-tiling the back roof. 

Hopefully soon, the roof will be fully repaired, and we will also make progress with the work that needs to be done inside our house, but it's a relief to know that one of the biggest jobs is underway at long last!

Gradual Emergence

In line with the advice from the Scottish government for individuals who, like my husband, fall into the most vulnerable category, we are still shielding, but gradually the restrictions are lifting, and perhaps at the end of July we will be advised that we can emerge. It might be that in August my children can return to school and nursery and I will be able to return to my job in a supermarket. But it might be that we will have to continue playing it safe yet. We are watching the reports each day, noting the figures, which in the last few days have risen slightly. It's difficult, unsettling being in the unknown, mentally preparing for a possible return to previous routines, and yet not really knowing if it will happen yet.

I am anxious about the transition back into work and the school run. In some ways I feel like I've lost a part of myself, the part that has a place in my community, my work place, the outside world. I've been away so long that I've almost forgotten who I am away from home and feel a strange sort of detachment to it all. Returning to old routines will be a process of rediscovering myself and fitting in again.

Perhaps it will be easy. Perhaps it will be as though I've never been away. But at the same time, it's not just me that's changed, but the whole world around me. I haven't been able to experience this new world firsthand, when others have been living in it for the last four months, so it's going to take some adaptation.

The hardest part is not knowing if it will happen yet, or whether we will stall for a further few weeks, gradually increasing the detachment I feel towards my former lifestyle and making the rehabilitation process even harder. I can only wait and see, and continue to utilise this time I've been granted.

Comfort Reading

Well, if there's one thing to be said for 2020, it's that it's been a good year for reading. I was in a good routine before lock down, but since I began shielding I have read twenty-one novels, two poetry volumes, six Shakespeare plays (continuing with my schedule of two a month), and various literary adaptations and criticisms corresponding to the plays. It would be accurate to say that reading is one of the things that has sustained me during this difficult period in my life.

Having an hour or so to read between home schooling and entertaining the children, and making dinner, has kept me going through the day with all its demands, and given me something to look forward to, something that's just for me. Shielding has also meant I've had time to read both first thing in the morning and last thing at night, whereas when I'm working I get up in the early hours of the morning, and have to settle early at night to compensate for the sleep lost.

Very soon after lock down was announced, I was inspired to try and host an online book group meeting. I was invited to use the Facebook page of my local book group as a base for this, and the meetings have been hosted using Zoom. Besides the current members, I was joined at the first meeting by friends and family from Devon too. I found it rather daunting to be the host, but the meetings have been a success and we have held three so far. At the most recent meeting we were even joined by the author of the book, which was very exciting!

For me, reading has given me a source of escape. It has enabled me to travel to all sorts of places and situations in a period of my life where I am physically stuck in one place, and in doing so taken my mind off the various anxieties and stresses which have sometimes felt quite overwhelming. I don't know what the next few months hold or when I'll be able to return to work, and the children to school and nursery, but this reading time is definitely something to be thankful for given the circumstances.

Reprieve

I am trying to see this strange and uncertain situation we're in in a more positive light. I am in a position where I no longer go to work, no longer balance antisocial hours and school runs, or really manage time. Of course, there are many pressures and stresses that come with the current restrictions, but in a way I am experiencing a kind of freedom too. Despite having two young children to entertain and educate and a husband recovering from a hip replacement, I've suddenly found I have time to do things I never got round to before. 

A few weeks ago I started putting up the plasterboard that got my family into our current mess in the first place*. It took a few days and it was hard at times, but I felt satisfied to be getting something done. Simultaneously, in the evenings, I picked up a crochet pattern I've wanted to try for many years, one that I hadn't started simply because I needed to download and print it, and I didn't know how to work our printer. Not only did I print the pattern, but I learned to use the printer in the process. I started baking bread again, mainly because we ran out and were depending on others to shop on our behalf, and we weren't always organised enough to arrange this in time, but we had a good supply of bread flour. I tried a new recipe with the children: we made hot cross buns on Good Friday for the first time, after many years of aspiring and failing to make them for Easter. 

I don't know when life will return to normal, when I'll go back to work and the children will start school again, and I suddenly find myself snowed under with numerous responsibilities and very little time to myself, but I am trying to see this time as an opportunity, a reprieve. It's a deliverance of sorts, the chance of a lifetime to break from the norm and discover ourselves and what really matters. And so I am using this reprieve as productively and industriously as I can, with the hope that whenever we return to our old routines, I might have got ahead with various projects that have been on hold so long, and perhaps even achieved something worthwhile. I can only hope that one day I'll look back and see this as a turning point in my life.

*my husband's accident happened when he tried to move ten pieces of plasterboard in one go.

Hosanna

When I promised to love my husband in sickness and in health I never envisaged a scenario where his health would require me to remain at home, taking indefinite leave from a 'key worker' position which will in all likelihood span for longer than the twelve weeks initially proposed. Don't think for a minute I am rethinking my wedding vows or considering my position to be unique. I fully appreciate that everyone is in the same boat. But there are times where I feel somewhat trapped. I am taking care of three people on my own, while learning to depend on others for needs that would otherwise require me to step into the outside world. And it's hard. 

While on the whole my outlook on life is improving and I am adapting to the situation at hand, there are days where I feel completely drained. I am pouring out so much of myself that sometimes by evening I am empty. I don't see those days coming. They tend to creep up on me when I dare to believe I've finally got the upper hand, and they come in an onslaught with any additional pressures, even joyful ones. 

Trying to coordinate Easter and Ever's fourth birthday on top of my current caring duties was almost too much. Although I prepared in advance I didn't anticipate how overwhelming the day itself would be with two excitable children, a full itinerary with little resting time, a lot of clearing up to do and no one to help. Is it really any wonder that, while I made it through the day, I feel so empty this evening on supposedly the most joyful day in the Christian calendar. I know I will get through and tomorrow will surely be brighter, but for now all I can do is cry out Hosanna! Lord, save us!

 

At a Standstill

In just a few weeks everything has changed; a whole country held under siege by an invisible but no less threatening presence. We are exiled in the comfort of our own homes, yet endure separation from family and friends, entire communities. I cope alone with two small children and an invalid husband, laid up with a broken hip following an accident that coincided neatly with the outbreak. 

There seems very little else to say. Life is at a complete standstill for everyone at the moment, and we just have to endure it. There are days where it seems only a little thing, and other days where it feels harder to bear, but there is comfort to be found in the awakening of the spring, the lighter evenings and the daffodils lifting their newborn faces to the sun.

And Yet

I've been stationary for too long and I am restless. Three storms, one after the other, have kept us housebound for a significant part of the month, coinciding with my birthday and a visit from my parents, and still the wintry weather persists. We have seen plenty of snow, but never enough for a snowman, each shower overlapped by the rain so it never settles for long. One day I watched the snow settle then melt, settle then melt, several times over, with an effect not unlike the tide coming in and then going back out again. 

Our roof leaks in three different places. Drips fall contemptuously in our workshop from the neglected property above, empty and the owner out of reach. Shared responsibility for the roof, or more the lack of responsibility from the other party, has held up the repairs for long enough with no sign of light at the end of the tunnel. Other projects have been delayed too with difficulty in supply and demand of the building materials we need.  So many rooms are out of use that what's left feel cluttered and disorganised.

There are moments where, along with my own minor health complaints in the mix, I've felt weary of this house and all its problems. My efforts feel futile and I don't see a quick resolution to anything. 

And yet, this is home. I don't always see it beyond all the work that needs to be done. I can play games in the living room with my children, or potter about the kitchen making dinner, or sit in the breakfast room, writing while looking out across the garden, and feel deeply grateful. Yesterday evening the sky was clear for once and, while we ate dinner, we looked up at the moon, and Venus diagonally above. It seemed like a moment of clarity. Next month I'm determined will be a more hopeful one.